Abel: I Gave My Love a Gem
Set approximately five years before the campaign. - Abel should have gone home to eat. Trying to fit a meal in at Del's place rarely ended well. It was just that his own home was so damn far away, and he'd worked up too much of an appetite that day to wait. He popped into the bar down the block, ordered a meal to go, and carried it back to Del's. Del had a room he called the lounge, as if it were big enough for all his employees to use at once. It had one wobbly table with a single stool, and it stank of old charcoal from an unused woodstove. But it was empty for the moment, at least. Chunks of grilled beef, gravy, and bread to mop it all up with. A feast. Abel had the first bite halfway to his mouth when Del stuck his head in. "Abel. Get in here. There's someone I need you to meet." Abel chewed, swallowed, and wiped his mouth before he answered. "I'm fucking hungry, Del." "This is time sensitive. We've only got this kid for one night. You can have the job done before midnight. Come on." Abel hadn't even scrubbed the blood off his knuckles from the last job. "Think I'm good for today." "There's no one else available now. Get your ass in here." Abel permitted himself three more large bites before he gave in and left the food, still steaming, in the lounge. He joined Del in his office, and Del dove straight into his explanation. "This is about the Jerald White job. You'll never fucking guess who we got to help out. This is Shanrani Itzamatul's grandson. You know Itzamatul?" "Sure don't," Abel said, and took the free chair next to the guest. He did a double-take. Del had said grandson, but Abel would have mistaken the person sitting next to him for a woman. They were around his age from the looks of it, half a foot shorter than him, with delicate features. Unusual coloring for a human; pale rosy skin and hair so silver it bordered on lavender. He could not have looked more out of place in Del's cramped, decrepit office. He wore silk clothing with puffy sleeves, gilded buttons, and ribbons for embellishment. There was a tattoo of a butterfly surrounding one of his eyes. Tiny jewels were attached to his eyelashes, so they glittered when he blinked. Abel thought he was hallucinating for a moment. "This is—sorry, what was your fucking name again?" Del asked. "Embirani." "Embira-what?" "Ember is fine," the person said. That voice could have been male or female, too. Abel wasn't positive Del was right about the grandson thing. Del continued, speaking to Abel. "So you don't know Itzamatul, huh? Really? You should, he's one scary motherfucker. No offense, kid. Hey, Abel. Abel, you listening?" "Yeah." Abel forced himself to look across the desk at Del. Del, with his ample gut, four missing teeth, and hairy forearms. That stacked the world upright again. "I thought the Jerald White job was off." White was a wizard, richer than the prince, who hoarded magical artifacts. One of Del's clients wanted this gem—an arcane focus he wanted to stick on the end of his staff, or something; Abel thought the whole thing sounded fussy and not worth the trouble—but White refused to sell it, at any price. Originally Del was going to have some of his guys break into the White mansion and steal it, but last Abel heard, he'd decided the job was too dangerous to be worth the money. "It was. Then this little fucker came along." Del waved a hand at Ember. "He's been in the White mansion. Knows his way around. Can lead you straight to the gem. Ain't that right, kid?" "Hmm." Ember batted his eyes closed, hummed to himself, and used his finger to draw a few lines in the air. "Hmm, well, I know the room. Not sure about the exact location, sir. But I think I've seen the gem." "You think," Abel said quietly. Ember opened his eyes and smiled at him. The butterfly tattoo stirred to life, its wings beating. It took flight, fluttering a few inches toward Abel, then vanished in a shower of sparks. Hell. Abel blinked a few times and looked back to Del, who didn't seem to have noticed. A minor illusion cantrip, Abel was pretty sure. Azriel had known how to do it, back home. And it explained Ember's humming. "So here's how it's going to work," Del said. "Abel gets you both inside. Ember navigates. Abel carries the product and takes care of any interlopers." "Oh, dear," Ember said. "Mister Delaney, sir, you aren't suggesting a tiefling and an aasimar work together, are you?" "Ember, shut up," Del said. An aasimar. Abel had heard of them, for sure, but he didn't think he'd ever actually met one. And he didn't think he was too fond of his first, so far. "Can you draw a map of the place?" Abel asked. "Mm, no." Ember pretended to think about it, then shook his head. "I never learned properly to work with maps. Can't tell north from south, really." Abel tried shooting Del a help me look, but Del firmly ignored him. "Here's the way I work. Your grandpa quoted me a price, fucking steep if you ask me, but this is a once in a lifetime kind of deal. I'll get you ten percent up front and the rest when the job's finished." That was a lie; Del's standard payment structure was twenty percent up front. But he liked to see how people haggled. "Ten percent?" Ember touched a finger to his lips while he thought. "With two thousand gold, that'd be… oh, hmm…" "Two thousand gold?" Abel said. "What the fuck." Del spread his hands like he'd had no choice. "Let's see," Ember continued. "One percent would be… alright, well, if it were a hundred gold, one percent would be one. And ten percent would be… ten?" "Yep," said Del. "So if it's two thousand…" Ember held up two fingers, then stared blankly at them. "It's two hundred," Abel said. Fucking unbearable. "Hmm. Alright." Ember smiled and another butterfly appeared, taking off from his hair this time. # Ember, it turned out, liked to sing. Abel wanted to die. "I gave my love a cherry that had no stone; I gave my love a chicken that had no bone—" Ember had a lute strapped to his back, and a flute attached to his belt. Seemed like he fancied himself a bard. Abel still had no idea who the fuck Shanrani Itzamatul was, but he was probably rich enough for his grandchildren to pursue whatever frivolous hobbies they wanted instead of having to make a real living. The White mansion was located on an estate of several acres, and at present its hundreds of windows emanated a warm glow visible from half a mile away. "This is the place, right?" Abel asked. He knew without a doubt it was the White mansion, but he was checking to see if Ember really recognized it. "It's—oh," Ember said as he tripped and barely managed to regain his balance before landing on his face. Abel didn't stop walking, and Ember rushed to catch up with him. Ember squinted at the lights ahead. "Is it? You know, mansions all sort of look alike. Have you noticed that?" Abel didn't answer. Alright, worst case scenario, they were going to break in and Ember was going to have no idea where to find the gem, and lead them in circles through the mansion until they were discovered. That was a really bad worst case scenario, actually. Abel gripped the hilts of his daggers grimly, more out of comfort than necessity. "Alright, where was I?" Ember said brightly. "I can never remember quite how that song goes. I gave my love a baby with no cryin'; I gave my love a story without any end. And then the next verse… oh, this is where I get confused." "You're going to have to stop singing," Abel said as they drew closer to the mansion. "We're trying to be stealthy. Do you understand what I mean?" "Oh, yes. You mean all quiet-like, escaping detection. Right?" "Uh-huh." "Well, then what did I bring these things for?" Ember put one hand each on his flute and the head of his lute. "Always good to be prepared, I suppose." "Please, stop talking." Ember complied, but every now and then Abel heard him humming. Once, a butterfly flew past Abel's head, off toward the looming mansion. "Stop doing that," Abel said. "It's unnatural. A butterfly, at night, at this time of year. It'll attract attention as much as you singing." "No, no. It's meant to be a distraction. A servant will see it and think, huh, how strange, a butterfly. And they'll go to investigate, while we sneak past." Abel stopped walking and whirled around to face Ember, who was trailing behind. "Now, listen to me," he said, pointing in Ember's face. And… he lost what he was going to say. He'd forgotten, since getting out of Del's office, just how striking Ember's features were. His skin almost had a faint shimmer to it in the glow of the mansion lights, though maybe that was another illusion. Then there were those gems in his eyelashes, currently batting open and closed, slow and confused. "Yes?" Ember said. His voice came out high, almost girlish. Abel wondered again if Del had gotten mixed up about the grandson thing, but it seemed like a rude question to ask someone, whether they were a man or a woman. Without thinking about it, Abel dropped his gaze lower, seeking a clue from Ember's figure. But that was no help; his clothes were too flowy and he had a belt cinched high and tight on his waist. "When we get inside," Abel began, making eye contact again. He was sick of looking into Ember's stupid sparkly face, so he made himself talk fast. "When we get in there, your one and only job is to show me to the room where they've got the gem. You will do it quickly and quietly. You don't worry about creating distractions. You don't worry about how to deal with anyone who sees us. That's my job. Do you understand?" "Oh, yes, Abel, sir. I understand perfectly." "Can you just—stop—" Abel gritted his teeth, trying to word his request reasonably and failing. "Being like that?" Ember's mouth became a little o'', and his eyelashes batted faster. Then abruptly, the affected look fell away, and his expression turned bored. His voice turned bored, too, and markedly more coarse and mannish, a fine impression of the types of guys Abel normally worked with. "What, you prefer something like this?" Abel stared. Ember smiled and patted his cheek. "I can be any way you like, Abel." Ember stepped around him and continued on toward the mansion, his footsteps crunching on the gravel path. "You coming?" Abel didn't say another word for the rest of their walk. He didn't have to. Ember had finally shut up. He wasn't bad at being stealthy, it turned out. When they reached the side of the building he stuck close to Abel, silent as a shadow. Abel crept along the walls, checking every door he came to until he found one that was open. Good. He vastly preferred jobs where he didn't have to climb through windows. That boded well for the rest of this mission. The room they entered was a library, empty and dark. Abel held up a hand to make Ember wait while they listened. Footsteps and voices came through the ceiling from the second floor, but Abel heard nothing from either of the corridors adjoining the library. He raised his eyebrows at Ember and mouthed ''Where to? Then he realized he didn't know if aasimars could see in the dark. Ember put a finger to his chin and made an exaggerated show of looking left and then right. He beckoned, and started for the right. Abel followed, only to crash into him when Ember stopped abruptly, shaking his head and pointing the other way. Ember didn't have the faintest fucking clue where to find the gem, or even what the basic layout of the mansion was—that became clear almost immediately. They spent the better part of an hour poking around in dark rooms, slinking through hallways, ducking around corners to hide when they heard servants approaching. And Abel had no choice but to just put up with all of it, following along blindly. In his head, he composed an increasingly long and vitriolic rant to make at Del, if and when he made it back to the office alive. They found the gem on the second floor, in a well-lit room resembling a museum gallery. Paintings adorned the walls, and pedestals were spaced every few yards with artifacts and curios on display. Del's client had given a good description of the gem. Fist-sized—no, not like Del's fist, like, young lady fist. Bluish purple, the color of a clear sky when the first star of the evening peeks through. Cut symmetrically with thin facets, too many almost to make it pleasing to the eye. Looks rough, almost, Jagged. Abel made Ember wait by the doorway while he searched for the gem. It wasn't hard to single out; it was the only gemstone on display, and it matched the client's description perfectly. Abel had just lifted it off its pedestal and was holding it tentatively in his hand, waiting to see if he felt any magical effects come over him, when he heard the clunk of a crossbow firing and a cry of pain behind him. He turned, free hand flying to his dagger. There was a servant, a middle-aged man, collapsing to the floor with a bolt planted in his chest. And Ember, lowering a crossbow. Abel hadn't even known he was carrying one. "Ember." Abel sprinted lightly toward him and whispered as loud as he dared. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ember glanced at him, and for an instant looked like a different person than whoever Abel had spent the rest of the evening with. No frivolity, no naive confusion. He looked like someone calculating. Someone deadly serious. Then he smiled, and batted his eyelashes. "Well. He saw us." Abel took Ember by the arm and started dragging him toward the back of the room, where a set of glass doors led to a balcony. The jump was going to be hell on the knees. He spoke through his teeth. "You've just escalated this crime from theft to murder. Are you aware murder carries a harsher sentence? Death, usually, if I'm not mistaken?" This wasn't Ember's first experience with murder, though. Abel just had a fucking feeling. "Then I suppose it's extra important we kill anyone who sees," Ember said. "So there's nobody who can tell on us. Did I get it wrong? Oh, hey, is that the gem? Can I see it?" Abel shoved the gem into his pocket as another man appeared in the door to the hallway. Sharply dressed, black hair slicked back from his face, and a neatly trimmed mustache. He had jeweled rings on his fingers, which glowed red when he raised a hand and aimed it at Abel and Ember. That would be Jerald White, then. Abel threw himself on top of Ember as he dove out of the spell's path, rolling them both to safety. The thunderous force of the spell crashed through the room, knocking over pedestals and smashing into the balcony doors, shattering glass. Ember squirmed to free himself until Abel rolled off. White ran toward them, then stopped dead in his tracks some ten feet away, eyes on Ember. "What are you doing here?" White said. He faltered and took a step back. His hand shook as he lifted it into the air. Wisps of red light gathered again around his fingers, but they looked weaker this time. Abel readied a spell of his own, static energy crackling in his palm. But he hoped he wouldn't have to use it. He hoped they could still pass this off as a misunderstanding, somehow. "Oh, Mister White, sir," Ember said, "I have a message for you from my grandfather." The blood drained from White's face, and he took a few more steps back. Ember took the flute from his belt and raised it to his lips. From the very first note, White seemed to freeze up, unable to run or react in any way. The song wasn't… unpleasant, at first. Just odd. A few low, drawn-out notes, unsettling when played in succession. Abel's mother had forced him into music lessons when he was a child; he remembered some basics about chords and progressions, and something about this music was off. Unnatural. Alien. And then it got worse. The tempo increased. The notes clashed and grew overtones, weird frequencies that felt like getting hit in the chest and the throat. Abel pressed his hands over his ears, but he could still feel the sickening energy vibrating against his skin. Jerald White's body seized up and trembled uncontrollably. Even with the music getting louder, and even with his ears covered, Abel heard the keening cry of pain that escaped White's mouth. His flesh began to shrivel and discolor, first to a bruised yellow, then to brown. His lips thinned and pulled back into a grimace, and his eyes melted into his head, leaving two black caverns. And as Ember blew one final, screeching note on his flute, White's body crashed to the floor, nothing now but a rotted corpse. Ember fastened the flute to his belt again and scooted around to face Abel, holding out his hands. "Give me the gem." Abel crawled away backwards. "Give… what? No. No, I'm not giving you the gem." Ember pouted. "Abel. Abel." Each time he said it, it came out more singsongy, drawn out. "Aaabeeel…" Before Abel had time to respond, they were joined by two more servants—and two armed guards. Fuck, Del hadn't said anything about armed guards, just magic shit. One of the guards went for Abel, longsword drawn. Abel jumped to his feet and twisted so the scales on his back took the brunt of the hit. The blade skipped across them and bounced away, leaving only a superficial cut along his unprotected skin. Abel spun back around and let out a demonic hiss. Flames blossomed from the floor surrounding the guard and engulfed his body. The second guard had gone for Ember, who weaved and dodged away from every swing of the sword. He reached overhead and pulled his lute from his back, and skipped backward while he began to strum. He assaulted the strings, fingers raking up and down, and his eyes glowed an unearthly bright yellow, like the sun. The strumming grew louder, and louder, until Abel and everyone else in the room was doubled over and covering their ears. It crescendoed into a burst of sound like a thunderclap, and threw them all off their feet. Abel lay on his back, dazed, his ears ringing and body aching. He moved slowly, testing his limbs and turning his head, trying to determine how badly he was hurt. He was still breathing fine. Not bleeding, except for the cut on his back. But he felt heavy, and slow. As the ringing in his ears faded, he became aware of a new sound. The lute again, but a soft, sweet melody this time. And humming. Ember was walking toward him, and when he was close he crouched down beside him. Abel opened his mouth to ask what Ember was doing—it'd better be a fucking healing spell, or—but he forgot the urge to speak before anything came out. Gods, the song was so beautiful. There was something so intriguing about it. It was familiar, like a lullaby, but at the same time it had a strange edge to it. Abel kept feeling like he should hum along, but he was never quite sure where the melody was going. He wanted to listen deeper. Like there was a hidden message embedded in it. Ember stopped playing and reached out to caress Abel's face. "Abel. Abel, won't you give me the gem, please? I want to keep it safe for you. You're hurt, Abel." Ember's voice was sweet as ripe fruit in the summertime. Every time he said Abel's name, the feeling intensified. His fingers were so cool and soft. Abel reached into his pocket and pulled out the gem. He held it out to Ember, who snatched it from him and shoved it in a waist pouch. "Thanks." He stood up and headed for the shattered balcony door. Abel sat up, suddenly clear-headed. "Hey!" Ember stopped and looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised expectantly. Abel climbed to his feet, trying not to let it show how much pain he was in. He gritted his teeth and stomped over to Ember, standing at his full height so he towered over him. "Did you just charm me? Give me the fucking gem back!" "Well yes, of course I charmed you. Why would I give it back now?" Normally, this was where Abel would bring out a bit of lightning. But White's decayed body still lay only a few feet away from them, a potent reminder of why he might not want to push too hard. Ember reached up and cupped Abel's face. "Oh, you are a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you? I've betrayed you, Abel. But I'm trying to give you an opportunity to escape with your life. Now, are you going to run, or are you just going to stand here and let me kill you?" Abel stared at him dumbly. Ember winced. "Really? You're going to choose the killing one? I was hoping it wouldn't come to that. It was sweet, the way you pulled me to safety from that spell, before. Maybe we can call it even?" Ember backed away and blew him a kiss. "Send my apologies to Del. Hey, you know, I liked your style. Be interested to see more of what you can do. If you're ever on the lookout for an employer who pays a bit more, ask around for Shanrani Itzamatul. I'll put in a good word for you." He winked, lashes glittering. Then he turned, stepped through the door frame, and hopped off the balcony into the darkness. Abel remained dumbstruck for some time. He looked around at the wreckage of the room, broken artifacts strewn all over the place, and the six dead or near-dead bodies splayed on the floor. There was nothing he could do, except flee the scene. And be glad he didn't have any evidence on him, at least. Del would be furious about the gem, but frankly Del could go fuck himself. Abel was going to need a vacation. Category:Vignettes